


Addicted

by Till the end (Shweta311)



Category: Homeland
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-03-08
Packaged: 2018-03-15 06:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3436127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shweta311/pseuds/Till%20the%20end
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate universe. Non-canon. Sexual content. It's a series of drabbles centered on C/Q, with no plotline whatsoever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is somewhat reflecting on the equation of Carrie and Quinn at the beginning of their interaction. I always thought they could start an addictive or destructive sexual relationship with the amount of antagonism and sexual tension between them, and the sort of animalistic vibe. They'd make great fuck buddies. Obviously, the writers went along the other path and developed them slowly. This is AU where their relationship progresses in a different way, without other factors interfering.

She was flustered, his attention to her was obvious, but his blatant rough edges were putting her off, threatening to put her off her game, secretly eliciting a challenge. He was cocky, also somewhat hot, though she wouldn't admit it. His eyes were so closed she couldn't bring herself to trust him for one bit. Which just added to the edge.  
She ran her hand through her hair, that was such a tell he knew she was off her step a little.  
“Looks like we’re the night shift”, he said the words which added more weight to the already heavy air between them. 

“So you were fucking him, ha?”  
“Well who are you fucking?” she retorted, but all he replied was a smile.  
“What? Couldn't find a woman? That bad?” she commented slyly, offended by his disregard of her. His expression didn't change at all, his gaze piercing. He closed the distance between them and Carrie expected him to either kiss or, or slap her, one and the same. Rather, he stopped with his face one inch away from hers, and said, his voice as husky as she could dream of. “You’ll ask me for it”, he breathed on her face, never breaking eye contact, and Carrie could smell the coffee on his mouth mixed with his masculine scent, the aftershave and the fabric of his shirt, all at the same time. Her pupils dilated as her breath hitched and before she could close the distance he moved and walked away, leaving her frozen.

 

 

“I’m so used to wine that it doesn't really help anymore.” It was 11 pm and they had returned from work, a clusterfuck of a mission. Their asset had been killed, beheaded, and the terrorist was at large. “I need something stronger” she said.  
“C’mon, I know a place.” He grabbed her wrist and practically dragged her out. He drove her to a little block not far, on a deserted street.  
“Whoa, this doesn't seem like a place a lady would visit.”  
“You have nothing to fear.” And his tone was so filled with menace that she believed him. Anybody who even breathed in her direction without his permission wouldn't leave the place in one piece.  
“Hey bud, give me two of those.”  
The person, who was very clearly a junkie, handed them two joints.  
Carrie raised an eyebrow..”Trust me” he said.  
\----  
She felt lightheaded and she couldn't see straight for what seemed like an hour. On the contrary he was in control and seemed almost sober, but she knew the effects hadn't worn off yet.  
“Let’s go home”, she could hardly hear him.  
He was driving her to her apartment, and all she could see was his hands, when he shifted gears, his movement on the wheel, the ease of an aristocrat, the grace of a killer, she tried not to let her mind wander on what all he was capable of doing with them. His huge hands on her body..he broke her thought process by looking at her, the cruel line of his mouth, the menace of his thin lips, contorted with concern that only she was capable of extracting from him.  
She remembered all those nights, where she’d fantasized of being with Brody, the fire he ignited in her. She thrived on the pain he inflicted on her, she’d never admit to the fact, it gave her strength to have come out of it and love him for it still. She had practically weakened him into loving her. When he was fatigued, vulnerable from his pain and inflicting it on her, he loved her. It was as poisonous as it could be. Her own prison.  
There was nothing vulnerable about the man in front of her now though, and he’d never let it slip in front of her that he cared. She was determined to find out though.  
She vomited as soon as she reached her place, and he held her hair with one hand and rubbed her back with the other.  
When she was sober enough, he led her to bed and got her in.  
“Stay”, she said, getting hold of his collar, peeking in the window that it made in his shirt.  
“No, not like this.” He said. He wasn't being the good guy, and she knew it. It wasn't even because he didn't want to not take advantage of her. It was because when she asked him, he wanted her to be in her senses, so that she’d beg and she’d remember, and remember every fucking detail.  
But she couldn't help the exhaustion that took her over and soon she was sleeping.

 

At 1 am, she woke with a start. Her dreams had violence, sex, murder, all at once and she almost shook with reality as it hit her, then she found him sitting on the chair in the bedroom. She focused as she recalled with difficulty of the events before, and a feeling of rejection swept over her.  
“Who were you fucking”, he asked with a smirk, “or how many?”

She hated him for it. She had never lost before, never been refused. It fueled her even more.

Rage consumed her; she got up immediately and pulled him up by his shirt, and kissed him hard. He wasn't having any of it though, and he pulled her head back with her hair, making her gasp. He backed her into the wall and kissed her hard, forcing her mouth open and let his tongue in, to battle with hers. He bit her lips, and sucked on them. As she tried to pull at his arm with her hand, he clasped her wrist and pinned it beside her hair, taking complete control of her now. He stared at her eyes, both indignant, and filled with lust at the same time. He unclasped her pants and let them fall to the floor, without breaking their eye contact; she didn't have to step out of her panties, he ripped them off in a single motion as the lace fell to the floor in two pieces, and he immediately slipped a finger inside her, making her moan, even as she tried to stifle it.  
“How was he in bed?” He asked.  
She knew what he was asking immediately. “Rough”, she managed to speak, her breath hitched as he started fucking her with his finger. He then slipped another finger in and maintained pressure on her clit with his thumb. Her mouth hung open and her pupils were blown as he explored her wetness, somehow knowing the right places instinctively, driving her mad with his tentative teasing.  
“You like it rough” it wasn't a question.  
“Yes”, she whispered.  
He let go of her hand now, knowing he had sucked any or all struggle she had left in her, and pulled out a knife from his pocket, it was small, and sharp, and it glinted in the dim light as savagely as his gaze on her body.  
He raised it to her lips and drew a mark on her lower lip; a smear of red immediately appeared on her pink ones. His eyes spoke volumes as he looked into hers for permission. Various emotions flickered on his face, anger, lust, passion, concern, rage, want, heartbreaking need, that broke every other thought her mind had allowed her till then, and she forgot even about everything as all of her left herself and all she was left was with this man. For now, she would feel what he felt, be what he was, and consume him like nothing mattered at all. He kissed her fully then, taking her lower lip and licking all the blood away, and sucking on it till it stopped bleeding.  
He lifted her in one swift motion and slammed her against the dresser. Her head hit the wall and rest of her frail body was pushed against the mirror, making her shriek. He didn't care that he hurt her.  
He removed his pants now, he was already hard now, his cock huge and ready.  
She was so close, and wanted him so much to fill her that she begged..”Q..Quinn..please”, and without further asking, with one quick motion he slammed into her, pushing so hard that the unsuspecting items on her dresser shook and fell off, the glass bowl breaking into pieces as it hit the floor. Her back arched from the impact and she dug her nails into his back to return some of the pain, and it thrilled him even more. He thrust into her harder and harder, with no rhythm whatsoever, in a way she knew she her insides would be bruised the next day, and she moaned with each of his push.  
He moved from her lips to her jaw, engulfing it in his mouth, his tongue exploring her neck as he unbuttoned her blouse and she couldn't remember where she was, just as he pulled and pinched at her nipples. She came violently then, the world disappearing into oblivion for a single moment, till she could focus on him again, as he came slowly after, and muttered a few profanities as he finished with a few last thrusts. She suddenly became aware of her head hurting, from the hangover and she almost welcomed the pain, giving her a break from the plethora of emotions she just went through.  
They tried to slow down their breathing then, reality coming back to them in bits and pieces. Holy shit, she thought. Whatever had been going on between them, the intense sexual atmosphere had somewhat lifted off, but it left them wanting more, much more. And her even more so, as the indignation of having been completely possessed and controlled hit her, and she was determined to make him pay the same way he did her.  
“We should rest”, was all he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Picks up right where they last left of

He woke her up in the morning with coffee. She didn't realize she didn't have any clothes on while he was fully dressed. It made her feel conscious suddenly, even though it pretty much didn't mean anything after the night before. The sheet slipped off of her as she tried getting up, and she groaned as her body throbbed from the stiffness due to the exercise of the night before. His scrupulous eyes didn't miss a thing as hers followed, bite marks on her left breast, a bruise which had turned blue black just at the side of her waist, where his hand had been holding her, much, much too tight and yet not tight enough. He didn't apologize, if he felt guilty for it. He simply handed her the coffee. She sipped it, which certainly made her feel better and fresher. He stood up then, the movement very sure in contrast to her own uncertain eyes as they followed him..”I’ll see you at work”, he said as he left.

She went in to shower straight, as she realized she couldn't walk without feeling a muscle in left thigh, and her vag was so sore that she went to look for a lubricant. Her lip throbbed dully from the cut, as she recalled the events of the night before, one of the most violent ones in her life. And yet she couldn't bring herself to regret it, she hadn't felt that much emotion in a long time now. The pain and violence was a reminder of how much she was capable of feeling, when life was somewhat heightened. She rested her forehead on the wall, as the warm water eased some of the pain. The thought of him and his body smashing into hers, his lips on her neck, and the insides of her legs pulsed again. Her gut clenched at how much she needed him again, even though it drove her fucking mad.

 

He was his usual self at work today, moving like a snake, as antagonizing as ever. Well that didn't change, she thought grudgingly, and his eyes were as dead as they always were. Except for the one moment before he had fucked her, and she now realized why he was so tightly wound, his eyes gave away way too much for his comfort.  
He observed her then, and looked at her ravenous eyes as she didn't break the gaze, and immediately his breath caught, and she was smug suddenly, glad that his careful mask had given away a little, that she could affect him so.

 

She knocked at his door in the night, and he knew it was her; nobody would come to see him at this time of the night.  
He opened the door.

She looked gorgeous, had clearly put on an effort in looking her best, as if that made her sexy, he laughed inside.  
Her appeal to him was hardly physical, though it conformed into it. Her raw nature, bold spirit, uninhibited passion, her absolute inability to feel halfheartedly about anything, from love for her job to jazz, it made him come alive inside like nothing he ever felt before.  
She didn't say a word as she threw herself on him, and locked the door behind her.  
Her throat was dry because of the ache of his mouth on her, his tongue inside her. She took his lower lips in between her teeth. He took hold of her body as he kissed her back, but she immediately removed his hands from around her waist, murmuring a “No” as she looked in his eyes, as she sent the message across, it was her turn now, to take control. He let go of her, giving her the lead now. And she unbuttoned his shirt while kissing him and he followed her suit. She clutched at his hair while she kissed him, and pressed her body against his, like she couldn't get close enough to him, that even a single molecule of air was a distance too great for her. The other hand went down and palmed his hardness through his pants, as he moaned, then went inside his pocket to draw the same knife he’d used on her, to carve all her guards and leave her exposed to him fully. He couldn't help but smile while kissing her, and she felt her lips turn as well. She drew a long cut on his chest, above his left nipple, and carved his cheekbone. She’d never admit to just how the hollows under his cheekbones turned her on, she made a mental note. She kissed him for a minute before taking a breath, as she grabbed a bottle of bourbon from the table beside, and let it flow on her hand as she cupped it, and then splayed it on him, making him flinch. It congested the wounds, just as she put her mouth to it, licking and sucking all of the whiskey off his chest, to his neck, feeling his taut muscles under her lips, across his jaw to his temple. He groaned and grasped her hard, but she was having none of it, and she slipped her hand inside his pants and wrapped her fingers around him. He shook from the sudden movement and she smirked, for all his annoying placidity, she thought. She unbuckled his belt and was quickly on her knees in front of him, still looking in his eyes, at his face, his armor slipping away by the minute.  
His pants dropped to the floor, and she admired his huge and already erect hardness, before engulfing him in her mouth. He shivered from the impact, his eyes rolling inside, unable to grasp on to any reality whatsoever. She ran her tongue on the length of his, and licked and started sucking at a rhythm. She took his hand and made him hold her hair, in a mockery of role playing; it was her directing the shots rather than him. Unable to hold himself any longer, he spilled into her mouth, moaning as he collapsed into the floor, his knees giving in. “Jesus Carrie.” Was all he could manage while trying to catch his breath, and she pulled away and sat beside him leaning against the wall, with a smile on her lips. She noticed then the marks on his back, where her nails had dug in, they were almost fading, as she realized how quickly he healed.  
“Are you okay?”, she asked, concern slipping away in her remark, which she had meant to come out as sarcastic.  
He laughed at that, and she suddenly realized this was the first time she had her that sound of sorts coming from him; he was seemingly unhinged from the force of the emotion.  
He pulled her face to his and kissed her, the edge still there, but with a bit of tenderness creeping in.

 

\--

 

It became routine then. They would fuck anytime and anywhere, never on the bed though, available every time the other called in. It was easy, comfortable; they never really could get enough of each other, pleasure each other enough, and hurt each other enough. They were often violent, doing unspeakable things to each other. No one spoke during sex; it was an unspoken rule between them. She preferred it that way, she was certainly better at sex than she was at words.  
Slowly, the tension between them thawed and they started speaking. They talked about work, life, and slowly and surely, when they didn't even realize, but had a bond of sorts creeping in. She came home once, and while he was expecting her to climb on him, she removed her heels which she usually liked to keep on during intercourse. “It was a tiring day.”, was all she could manage.  
“Umm, yeah”..he responded, surprised and closed the door, carefully taking a seat beside her. She noticed he kept an arms distance from her, which suddenly felt awkward.  
“Would you like some wine?”  
“Do you have scotch?”  
He raised an eyebrow..  
She retorted with her own frown.  
He stood up and got a bottle of bourbon, setting down two glasses.  
“I never felt like that before you know..” she said, after finishing hers in one single drink.  
“Like what?”  
“In the cabin, with Brody, It wasn't just sex, I mean I had always viewed sex as a means, or a physical need. Something I dealt in too easily, but with him..”  
Something stirred inside him, he couldn't exactly point out what, but he got up with a start, downing his bourbon with a gulp. “I think I need to sleep. Have a mission to fly tomorrow.” She was startled. This was only the second time he had rejected her, after their first night together.” Well can I sleep in, I can’t drive back now” she pointed to her drink.  
He nodded and went to his bedroom. He called out to her. “There’s the couch, but we can share the bed if you want.”  
She was done with detachment now. So she barged in and plopped down the bed as he stared at her. “What?” she asked. ”Don’t tell me you want this side now.”  
“Nope, I am cool” he said, his tone a little quirky.  
“Good, she said, because I only sleep on the left side.”  
He grinned at that, and then went silent. They lay after a long while like that, neither speaking, till sleep found her. It was the first time she had slept in with her clothes on.  
When she awoke the next morning, he was still awake, staring at the ceiling.  
“You catch any sleep? She was instantaneously sharp.  
“Um hm” he didn't open his mouth. She wondered what that meant.  
He wondered whether she knew what had kept him up.  
“Sex with you is another thing altogether.”  
He turned to look at her, his eyes unreadable as he searched her for more.  
“Thank you” she said it like she meant it, and she got up and left his apartment, leaving him in bed with his humongous thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

They were lying on the bed after a tiring day at work. She hadn't even removed her shoes.  
“Remember when we called Brody back in, to identify the ammunitions guy?”  
“Yeah, the day you asked me not to trust him.”  
He looks at her surprised, that she would remember this small detail, of all the things that day.  
“We were standing by that door, discussing possible courses..”  
His eyes locked hers. And his hand hers.  
“I wanted to take you right there, should’ve..” Quinn pursed his lips.  
“I would've let you.” She said.  
He was again surprised, prompting further explanation.  
She looked at him, all stiff and rigid, movements in his being betraying very little emotion altogether, yet there was this deranged look in his eyes sometimes that had seen much evil. He was like a silent storm, building up until it threatened to destroy anything and everything, including himself.  
“You looked volatile, combustible..  
Monstrous”, she lowered her eyes to his lips and kissed him, her mouth lingering on his lips till she was breathless.  
She climbed on top of him then, slowly and he grabbed her hips, as he lifted her into his lap effortlessly with just one arm, like she was a rag doll in his hands. She removed her shirt from over her head, and kissed him back eagerly. She unbuttoned his shirt, with her now practiced hands, with an ease as if she was wearing it on her own body, knowing it stiffened where his ample chest put pressure on the third button. She was absolutely still for one moment, with her lips, open, in the crook of his eye and nose, lingering on his eyes, then kissed him again. His hands roamed on her body, pressing and caressing in all the right places. She straddled him, and she moved her hips in circles, as he took one of her nipples in his mouth, and sucked on it, while cupping the other with his large hand. Her tongue glided over his cheek, lower lip, his small stubble, to his cheekbone. They both came together, and sighed as their mouths wouldn't leave each other’s, still hungry. She climbed off of him, wrapped some sheets around both of them, and turned to check her phone on the table. But he pulled her back by slipping an arm just beneath her chest to make her sit on his lap once again, with her back touching his chest. He lowered his lips to her neck, pressing open mouthed kisses from her shoulder to her arm, while his left hand knotted her hair. He pulled back a bit, and noticed a scar on her back, skin slightly raised from the rest of her flawless back. He started making circles with finger around it, caressing her back lightly.  
She heard the unspoken question, and answered. “It was one of my adventures. Playing around, bolted and fell, hit a rock..” she smiled.  
“I like the pain..Its masochism of kinds, I know. But drowning, in the deepest of waters, when you know you can’t breathe, and then coming up, just to remind yourself what air feels like in your lungs”, she stared in the distance, through the window, the twilight in the sky, the night falling secretly to surprise the unsuspecting day of its arrival. She took his hand in hers, playing with his fingers, as she tilted her head and let the side of her hair loose, cascading on his shoulder. He buried his face in her hair, and tucked them back behind her ear with his nose, to break the barrier, his long eyelashes tickling the back of her ear. His lips caressed her ear lobe and pulled it softly, as she turned to face him. She pressed her lips to his, and this time there was no movement, no tongue, just capturing the feel of his lips pressed to hers. Like she was communicating her thoughts to him with contact. Thoughts her subconscious kept hidden, for her own sanity. Dreams she had deliberately forgotten. It felt like breathing again.

 

\-----

 

They were in his balcony, leaning on the railing.  
She took the cigarette in her mouth and took a long drag straight away. “It’s loneliness.”  
“What?”  
“When I’m with you…I don’t feel alone anymore” She looked straight ahead, continuing with her cigarette, as he watched her carefully.  
“Guess that’s why it feels good to be with you.”  
He nodded, with no particular expression on his face, like he was listening to her opinion on them in an unbiased, hawk eye view.  
After they finished the cigarette collectively, he pulled her into his arms and began kissing her neck, and shoulders. They made their way to the bedroom, methodical, knowing, yet still curious.  
He didn't kiss her; she noticed this but didn't make any comment as to why this was different. When they were on the bed, he faced her back, and he started by massaging her head and her shoulders, to her arms, and to her waist and back, fingers lingering on her ribs, jutting out of her thin as paper skin. She relaxed under his attention, a heady mixture of arousal from his hands on her and the massage easing out her tense muscles. He entered her from behind then, gently spooning her, hands at the side of her hips, and she came almost immediately, and he continued till he did.  
After they were finished, he pulled up the sheets, and closed his eyes, making no attempt at conversation. While this was usually the case, it felt different to her somehow. She didn't say anything however, and lay on the bed, till sleep caught her.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a review. It's appreciated.


End file.
